Final Exams: Is There an Afterlife?
by Meredith Trainor
Summary: Harry is hopelessly failing potions, and Draco knows there is no way he can pass his final exam without divine intervention. So Draco plays devil's advocate, and yes, there is a love potion. Rated for mild slash, Drarry of course.
1. So this is how it starts

_**Final Exams: Is there an Afterlife? **A Harry-Draco ficlet by Meredith_

A/Note: Hi everybody, I'd appreciate if you'd review, I'm not sure if this needs a second chapter. Care to comment? It makes all the difference.

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"Oi, Potter!" The blonde yelled across the dungeon.

"What is it, Draco?"

"Have you been studying for your potions final exam?"

"No, but I've been praying, and I think I'll get to heaven after Snape kills me."

The Gryffindors around him laughed, and surprisingly, Draco joined in.

"Well, just in case divine intervention is not available, would you care to attempt to study with me tonight?"

"A lesson from the master?" Potter's sarcasm was hard to miss. "Absolutely. When?"

"Seven-thirty, don't be late."

"But I've got Quidditch from six to eight!"

"So? Wait a minute, I'll pretend to care. Be there, or don't." A chorus of "ooh"s from around the room.

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Sure enough, he was there, cauldron tucked under his arm, ratty copy of "Advanced Potioneering" inside it. He looked around the empty hallway by the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, and for a minute he was afraid Draco would show him up. Then, as he leaned dejectedly against a marble statue, a pale hand caught his shoulder and whisked him inside an invisible hole. He couldn't speak until they were through, and he was facing his attacker.

"Ouch! You nearly tore my arm off there."

"Hey, not my arm, not my problem, mate." Harry chose to ignore that jab.

"All right, let's start. What's your worst potion to date."

Harry thought it over for a second, and cringed.

"Love potions." Draco nodded sympathetically.

"For an amateur, they are," He paused, and smirked slightly, "devilish."

Harry set up his cauldron and poured the base liquid, sloshing some on the front of his robes. Draco laughed outright.

"Here, let me show you how to pour." He guided Harry's hand with his own, and the clear liquid made a beautiful arch as it cleared the side of the basin.

"Okay, add three hairs of the maker, and stir twice. Who's maker?" Harry asked, sweating over the steaming, almost-yellow potion.

"I am. Your hair's probably contaminated." Harry laughed.

"Here, allow me, your _Majesty_." He deliberately plucked two blonde strands from his bangs, and one from the very top of his gorgeous head. Draco yelped.

"Oh excuse me, am I hurting you?"

And the blonde tackled Harry, sending the book flying and just missing the cauldron.

"Gerroff—Malfoy! It was a bloody joke! Sheesh!"

And at once, in reference to his surname, the Slytherin sat upright, leaving the Golden Boy laying on the cold stone floor, looking up at him incredulously.

"You might try having a sense of humor now and then."

Harry's jaw dropped. Draco—the cold one—telling him to get a sense of humor.

So he returned the tackle, just as three Slytherin girls entered the statue hole. Upon finding the Gryffindor and his archrival tangled on the floor, they giggled uncontrollably as the boys took several minutes to unwind and stand up.

"Potter, you're hopeless at Potions. No wonder you get so angry." Draco said a bit too loudly, an obvious attempt to cover for what had just happened.

It didn't fool the oldest girl, a prefect, who crooned,

"Don't let us interrupt you, continue! Would you like a room? Some condoms? A pair of handcuffs?" And the others began giggling afresh, doubled up with laugher.

The boys weren't laughing. Harry was doing inner battle with his gentlemanly instinct _not to hit a girl_, and then there was that bothersome inclination inside him that the prefect was right… NO! She couldn't be, don't think about it, Harry.

Now Draco was bent over the potion again, its fumes masking the deepened shade of his own face.

"And… it's done." And what a potion! It was murky silver, with several spirals curling up to the ceiling in little hearts, and if Harry stared in it long enough, random thoughts that made no sense passed through his mind…

I wonder if Draco has a girlfriend.

He CAN'T love Parkinson. The cow!

His eyes are exactly the color of this potion. It's unbelievable.

Draco saw him and snickered.

"It's not a Pensieve, you know. You won't get to enter my memories, and trust me," His voice darkened, "You would never want to, Potter."

"Mind your own business, Draco."

"Why? It's my potion."

"**Our** potion!"

"Then why isn't it the color of YOUR eyes? I don't see an ounce of emerald in there." At once, Draco realized his mistake. "Not that your eyes have a color, mind you…" But it was a lame cover-up.

"Let's continue, shall we? No need to test it, we know my love potions are perfect…"

"Of course, how else would you get girls?"

"Who says it's GIRLS I'm interested in, Mr. One-track Celebrity?"

Harry coughed.

"Anyways, I don't use love potions on anyone."

"Then how can you tell it's right? I bet it's poison. If I fail my final exam because of you, I swear, Draco…"

Draco was losing his temper.

"Then why don't you drink some? Since you're so sure it's poison, I'd be glad to force-feed it to you!"

And Harry, instead of yelling back, poured some into a goblet he conjured out of thin air. Before Draco's wide eyes, he raised it to his lips. But he was smirking, and before he swallowed, he said demonically,

"You really are in love with me, Draco."

And it was all downhill after that.

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FIN... or is it? You decide. R&R. 


	2. Divine Intervention

_Final Exams: Is There an Afterlife? Chapter Two_

_Divine Intervention._

A/Note: Wow it's been a long time since I've Drarried. But at the readers' demand (and so many of you are on alert, this will come as a shock) here's the second chapter! Enjoy, and as always, rate and review.

PS: I wrote this while listening to Matt Nathanson's "Come and Get Higher." Not a songfic, but it just fits this song. Ya know? J

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Draco sputtered angrily as Harry chugged the potion. The goblet was only about four ounces, so it took only a minute. The Gryffindor's eyelids drooped, and his head slipped forward, as if in the middle of a Divination class. He was asleep in five seconds.

"Wake up. Come on! Get UP!" Draco prodded him with the potion stirrer. The girls were emerging, dressed up for an end-of-term party (no doubt in the Hufflepuff Common Room). The bold prefect from before lifted an eyebrow and asked loudly,

"Gosh, Draco, are you really that bad in bed? You put the poor boy to sleep!" And, giggling, the whole bunch walked away before Draco could do anything but fume. In exasperation, he picked up Harry's Potions' book (who in hell was the Half-Blood Prince??) and whacked him on the back of the head. The Golden Boy was awake at last.

"Hey… cut it out, Ron." Well, almost awake.

"Heaven help me if I ever became a Weasley," retorted Draco, as Harry finally sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh, hey Draco. How'd the potion work out? Did I go completely nutters and make a fool out of myself?" He seemed perfectly normal. _Or, _Draco reflected snobbishly, _as normal as the 'Chosen One' can get._

"No, it seems to have failed. Only a minute elapsed from then to now, and you should be feeling the effects." An awkward pause; Draco didn't know what to say. _When in doubt, blame Potter._ "Of course, if you'd have let me put in your hair we'd have disastrous results. MY Love Potions are always p--" He stopped mid-word, as he looked up to find the Gryffindor gazing intently into his eyes.

"No, the potion worked," he said. "I just have amazing self-control." Still, Harry was unbearably close. Draco blushed scarlet, but just couldn't pull himself away.

"Hold on. So you're--"

"Yes. At this moment I'm fighting every magicked instinct to kiss you. But you're not making it easy." And Draco felt devilish. No one was looking; he'd never get another perfect chance. He leaned in ninety-percent, until his face was less than a centimeter from the Lion's. It didn't take Harry long to fill the gap. It was a sweet, childish kiss, and Draco knew instinctively that this was wholly devoid of magical influence. A potion couldn't create _this_. It defied chemistry, but he knew so. After a long moment-- it could have been several, sunlit days-- they backed away. Harry's eyes opened; Draco had never closed his. Some things the Prince couldn't risk missing.

A short pause, and Draco felt greedy. He was so _close_! He saw angels and devils, and Merlin! Who gave a damn, anyway?? He'd _make _Harry forget. And so the blonde kissed him again. And again. And yet again. Each time was a mixture of faith and desire. Faith, that trusting in some higher power, perhaps even more powerful than magic. Desire, the mad emotion that drove him to do this, despite five years of resisting. What had he to lose, anyway?

_Everything. He'll never look at you after this._

He never looked at me before!

_But he came. For some reason, he was here at seven thirty._

Well, I'll make sure he never remembers.

_Ha. Try walking on water, or--_

Seeing what's next? Do I look like a Divinations Master?

_You're too impulsive for a Slytherin. You have to be more subtle. You have to--_

Don't care, don't care, don't care.

_I give up._

And, his inhibitions dissolved, Draco looked up to see the glaze vanished from Harry's face. He was completely and totally in control now. And Draco gave an involuntary shudder. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Harry stood and stretched out his hand to help Draco up. He reluctantly accepted.

"Do you remember…" he trailed off.

"Remember what?"

"Nothing." Draco was so embarrassed.

"You mean when I kissed you, or the three times you kissed me?" There was a laughing look in his eyes. Draco reached for his wand, but Harry was faster. The phoenix-feather wand was at his throat instantly.

"Don't you dare obliterate me," he said, eyes flashing darkly. But what he said next left Draco as if Stunned.

"I want to keep that memory."

Draco could do nothing but stare. To his credit, his jaw did not drop, but he still looked like a troll doing sums, or Crabbe trying to read. He just could not comprehend what on earth Harry was talking about. Harry seemed to understand fully, though.

"Let's put away the Potions things, and go back to my room. Gryffindor Tower will be empty because of the party, and we've got some catching up to do."

Draco could find only one reason against this.

"What about your Potions final tomorrow?"

Harry laughed at this weak resistance.

"I'll just have to leave it to divine intervention."

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Rate and review! And this really is the end. Sorry! :)


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